On the first day of my rebirth, I looked at the strange and handsome face of an ancient man in the mirror and vowed to find a way to travel back in time.
Three years later, I have become the richest man in the capital. I have four great inventions and countless beauties, but I still cannot touch the dawn of returning to modern times.
The eminent monk who once gave me the sacred object of time travel found me again, shook his head and sighed: "Donor, the thousand-year promise has not been fulfilled, and it is difficult to start the return journey."
I suddenly realized that I completely gave up my obsession with returning to modern times.
Turning around, I set my ambitions and vowed to spread Chinese civilization to all nations.
"Now that we are here, why not let the world remember China's name a thousand years in advance!"
Unexpectedly, the eminent monk looked at me and laughed: "Donor, you have finally found the real way back home."
Reader comments
There was a mountain of firewood piled in the backyard. A rusty ax stuck on a wooden pier.
Lin Chi stared at the ax for three seconds, then suddenly turned around and rushed out of the back door. He wants to leave here, immediately, immediately. The street - if it can be called a street - is narrow and muddy, lined with low wooden houses with various signs: "Liujia Cloth Shop", "Zhangji Cooking Cake", "Zhao's Pharmacy". Pedestrians wear short brown robes, tie their hair and wear scarves, carry burdens and push carts, and shout about business. The air was filled with the complex odor of feces, spices, food, and bad fats and oils.
No telephone poles, no asphalt, no car horns. Just the neighing of mules and horses and the clanking of oxcarts.
Northern Song Dynasty. He really traveled through time, and it was probably in the Northern Song Dynasty - based on the shape of the buildings, the people's clothes, and the vague era name "Tianxi" in his memory. Which year specifically? Little did he know that history had never been his strong point.
"Lin Chi! You kid is lazy again!" The fat man roared from behind.
There was a mountain of firewood piled in the backyard. A rusty ax stuck on a wooden pier. Lin Chi stared at the ax for three seconds, then suddenly turned around and rushed out of the back door. He wants to leave here, immediately, immediately. The street - if it can be called a street - is narrow and muddy, lined with low wooden houses with various signs: "Liujia Cloth Shop", "Zhangji Cooking Cake", "Zhao's Pharmacy". Pedestrians wear short brown robes, tie their hair and wear scarves, carry burdens and push carts, and shout about business. The air was filled with the complex odor of feces, spices, food, and bad fats and oils. No telephone poles, no asphalt, no car horns. Just the neighing of mules and horses and the clanking of oxcarts. Northern Song Dynasty. He really traveled through time, and it was probably in the Northern Song Dynasty - based on the shape of the buildings, the people's clothes, and the vague era name "Tianxi" in his memory. Which year specifically? Little did he know that history had never been his strong point. "Lin Chi! You kid is lazy again!" The fat man roared from behind.